


Halloween Party

by Misos



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Talent Development Plan AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misos/pseuds/Misos
Summary: It's a real scythe!





	Halloween Party

**Author's Note:**

> As you may be able to guess, this is directly inspired by the GraffArt Halloween DRV3 merchandise. The fic is kind of...rambly and not very focused, but I have to get my intense feelings about this ship out somehow. Hopefully one day I don't have to wait for a holiday to pressure me.  
> The idea here is that this is past some sort of vague redemption arc for Korekiyo, and he and Amami are in the vague beginnings of an established relationship. Someday I'll convey my actually extremely detailed headcanons as to how this came about.

“Ya sure you don’t need any help?”

“As I said, I am _Fine_.” Shinguuji sure had said that, but his hands were still trembling under the weight of the scythe.

Rantarou eyed him in concern. “You really didn’t hafta get a real one. No one would know if it was plastic.”

“ _I_ would Know,” Shinguuji said coldly. “I must carry a true Artifact. I would be a disgrace as an anthropologist Otherwise.”

“Okay, okay.” Rantarou held up his hands placatingly. “I just worry you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Kukuku.” It was a forced laugh. His laugh always _sounded_ forced, but it actually wasn’t most of the time. Rantarou could tell the difference. “I am very strong from my Journeys. I have been known to Brachiate. This is well within my Capabilities.”

Rantarou had seen his arms, and he doubted that, but he decided to drop the subject. “Let’s go and join the party, then.”

Shinguuji nodded.

It was pretty chaotic out there. Gonta was amiably threatening to release his butterflies into the room, which Ouma seemed to be talking him down from. Iruma was pestering Kiibo about something, or actually, on second glance, maybe it was the other way around? Momota and Harukawa were arguing, while Saihara miserably drank wine. Where had he gotten it from? Why hadn’t Toujou confiscated it yet? Well, she did seem to be busy with other things.

Shinguuji began to stagger towards the crowd.

Rantarou made one last attempt to improve his safety. “Can’t ya at least drag it on the ground instead of carryin’ it over your shoulder like that?”

“In no depictions does the Grim Reaper do That.”

Rantarou sighed.

Parties were supposed to be for relaxing, right? This one wasn’t working. As it went on, he only got more and more anxious about Shinguuji. He was absolutely going to slice his own head off at any moment, and no one else would care. Rantarou would. He had to stay close to him.

Saihara was definitely drunk by this point, and, as a consequence, a lot nicer to Shinguuji. He was listening fairly quietly to the explanations of how death is personified in many cultures.

“Wow, Shinguuji-kun, that is, uh…so interesting!” Saihara took another sip.

“Isn’t It!” Shinguuji said eagerly. “Most fascinating of all is the differences in Gender. Why would some cultures see Death as female and others as Male? Well, I think…”

Rantarou leaned on the nearby table and listened to him. It was nice. It genuinely was interesting, and he was glad Shinguuji was having a good time. Something was bothering him, though, and it wasn’t just the scythe anymore. Saihara clearly was not actually listening. Maybe that didn’t make a difference to Shinguuji, but it made a difference to Rantarou. It annoyed him. Shinguuji’s eyes were so happy. They should’ve been pointed at _him_. _He_ actually cared. But he couldn’t say any of this. It would come out all wrong. So he just brooded for the rest of the conversation.

As soon as it seemed be petering out, he waved Shinguuji over.

Saihara didn’t even seem to notice him walk away.

“Yes, Amami-kun?”

“You should eat something.” He gestured at the food around him.

“An excellent idea in Theory. However, this all seems to be very high in…Salt.” Shinguuji eyed it doubtfully. “You know I am unused to That.”

“Well, there’s pumpkin pie?”

“That’s too Sweet.”

“You hafta decide on something. I know you haven’t eaten all day. Sorry there aren’t any bugs here.” That was the only thing Shinguuji would consistently eat. “Except…” He glanced back over at Gonta. “Yeah, no bugs you can eat.”

“There ought to be _real_ spiders decorating those Pastries,” Shinguuji said, sounding irritated. “They’re simply made out of sugar, Correct? It nauseates Me.”

“Sorry about that.” Rantarou scanned the table again, more concerned than annoyed. He wished Toujou hadn’t made only Western food. Sure, Shinguuji would taste any foreign food in the name of culture, but if he didn’t like a dish, there was no hope of getting him to eat it a second time. Finally, he saw something workable. “Hey, there’s spaghetti.”

“That shall Suffice.”

They found a better place to sit, slightly further away from the worst of the noise.

“It is very fortunate,” Shinguuji said, “that I planned ahead and am already wearing my eating Mask. It would be troublesome to change around so many People.”

Rantarou just nodded, watching him intently. He still couldn’t tell if the zipper was open or not. It didn’t look open, but of course he was eating somehow anyway. He wasn’t getting any sauce on the mask either. He never asked about that. It was more fun to marvel at the apparent impossibilities. Some of Shinguuji’s mysterious quirks were oddly charming.

Shinguuji suddenly began staring at him in turn. “You certainly do make a good Vampire.”

“Yeah, well, I’m only wearing this ‘cause Shirogane-san told me to, y’know.” Rantarou stared at the ceiling instead, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“She can be wise at Times.” Shinguuji’s tone was serene. “You look Beautiful.”

Rantarou felt his face grow hot. “Um, yeah, you too.” He internally chided himself. He ought to be flirting back better than that, assuming that’s what Shinguuji was even trying to do right now. It was hard to tell with him.

Shinguuji put one of his bandaged hands over Rantarou’s and squeezed it. “Kukuku… According to some myths, vampire bites are supposed to be quite Pleasurable.” Oh. That _was_ what he was trying to do, then. So it was okay.

“But you don’t like anyone touching your neck, right?” Rantarou replied softly.

“That is True.” Shinguuji paused meaningfully.

“Guess I have to uh…pick some other place on your body.”

He unfortunately happened to say that just as Iruma was walking by. “Yeah!” she said. “Like maybe his–“

“Iruma-san, I am going to tear out your Nerves!” Shinguuji leapt to his feet and gestured threateningly.

She jumped. “O-Okay! God… No one here can take a joke…” She wandered off again.

Rantarou glanced over at the rest of the crowd before turning back to Shinguuji. Hm. “I think Saihara-kun just passed out,” he observed.

“Is he all Right?”

“Well, Toujou-san’s there, so.”

“Then he’s all Right.” Shinguuji sat back down. He grasped Rantarou’s hand again.

Rantarou squeezed back. There wasn’t anything wrong with ignoring everyone else.

They talked for some time, about death, vampires, and more personal things than that.

Eventually, it was Shinguuji who noticed first. “Everyone else has Left.”

Rantarou was startled to realize he was right. The room was empty. He wasn’t surprised no one had told them. That was how it went when you hung out with Shinguuji Korekiyo. “Guess we should go too.”

“Yes. Why, according to my watch, it is after Midnight.” After standing up, Shinguuji picked up the scythe from where he’d laid it against the wall. He made a pathetic sort of noise as he lifted it. His arms were trembling again.

Rantarou didn’t bother to ask. He grabbed for the other end of the handle and steadied it.

“I told you, I can…” Shinguuji paused. “Oh, very Well. Assist me if you Must. We are alone, after All.”

“Yeah!” Rantarou gave him as warm a smile as he could muster. “I won’t tell anyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> I added the line about it being past midnight so that technically, this partly takes place on November 1st, so technically, this isn't a day late by my time zone at all.


End file.
